


in the morning i'm bulletproof

by ohjustpeachy



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [29]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: "Might look worse than it is," Steve offers, though the way he's gritting his teeth tells Tony otherwise."Looks like it feels pretty bad, darling," Tony breathes. He takes in the mess on the floor. The first aid kit lies at their feet, bandages and ointments and a million other things scattered across the tile."I dropped that," Steve says. "My hands were... shaking pretty bad I guess." He sounds almost ashamed to have said it.Or, Steve comes back after a mission and Tony patches him up.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601260
Comments: 34
Kudos: 194
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV





	in the morning i'm bulletproof

**Author's Note:**

> Title: in the morning i'm bulletproof  
> Collaborator Name: peachy  
> Card Number: 4017  
> Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913090  
> Square Filled: T3/Fight  
> Ship/Main Pairing: stevetony  
> Rating: G  
> Major Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff  
> Summary: Steve comes back after a mission and Tony patches him up.  
> Word Count: 1271

A crash jolts Tony awake. 

Heart pounding in his throat, he fumbles for his phone, only to find that it’s only three in the morning. Only being the operative word, because he’d just come to bed a little over an hour ago, after spending the majority of the evening watching movies with the team, and then fidgeting around in the lab until his eyes grew too heavy to ignore.

He doesn’t sleep well when Steve’s away on missions without him, and he’s finding that this is only getting worse the longer they’re together. A blessing and a curse, really. Tony finally has the sleep schedule of a normal person, but only if one Steve Rogers is sawing the wood beside him, arms flung protectively across the small of Tony’s back as he sleeps. 

Tony blinks a few more times, sees the small sliver of light emanating from beneath the bathroom door, and shakes his head to wake himself up. The only person who could possibly be in the bathroom right now is Steve, who isn’t supposed to be back for at least two more days. But, unless someone managed to get through the Tower's myriad security protocols and shut down JARVIS — which, yeah, okay no — it means it can only be Steve in there. Tony yawns and shoves his glasses on as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Which is where he finds Steve, very much _not_ away on a mission, but standing, all but trembling, right in front of him, eyes glassy with lack of sleep or injury or both, Tony can't tell just yet. 

"What are you—"

"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to wake you up," Steve cuts Tony off before the question can leave his mouth. 

"Steve," Tony says. It's all he can say once he clocks the deep gash across Steve's forehead, and the way he seems to sway on his feet. His hands are bloody, too, like he put his fists right through a sheet of glass. And, given that this is _Steve_ , that wouldn't actually be such an outlandish idea after all. 

There's bruising around Steve's eyes, too, which make Tony think—

"Is your nose broken?" Tony asks incredulously, reaching out as gently as he can manage and laying a hand on Steve's shoulder to steady him. 

Steve winces, even though the touch is careful, well meaning. He shrugs, but then meets Tony's eye and nods. "I think so," he says. 

"Sweetheart," Tony says, softly. He can see how exhausted and achy he is just by looking at him, but he needs to be sure a broken nose is all that's wrong. "J, do a scan and let me know if there are any other broken bones I should know about?"

"No, sir, it would appear that the broken nose, several bruised ribs, and the lacerations on his head and arms would be the extent of Captain Rogers' injuries."

"Oh, is that all?" Tony mutters. He's wide awake now, taking in Steve and his uncharacteristic admission that something was wrong rather that trying to grin and bear it the way he usually does. 

"Might look worse than it is," Steve offers, though the way he's gritting his teeth tells Tony otherwise. 

"Looks like it feels pretty bad, darling," Tony breathes. He takes in the mess on the floor. The first aid kit lies at their feet, bandages and ointments and a million other things scattered across the tile. 

"I dropped that," Steve says. "My hands were... shaking pretty bad I guess." He sounds almost ashamed to have said it. 

Tony brings his hand up to cup Steve's jaw, rough with stubble from his time away, and softens at the way Steve leans automatically into the touch. "Here," Tony says. "Let me." He guides Steve back, so that he's sitting on the lid of the toiler, while Tony cleans up the mess and gathers what he needs to get Steve — if not better than at least comfortable enough to sleep. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Tony asks, because sometimes they don't. Steve especially, Tony's learned, doesn't always want to rehash the things he sees and does in the field. Sometimes he likes to come home, and hug Tony long and hard before throwing himself headfirst into paperwork. He's learned not to push, knows that Steve will tell him when he's ready. 

"Maybe tomorrow?" Steve asks, voice low and exhausted. 

Nodding, Tony leans down and tilts Steve face up to get a better look at the cut on his forehead. This, Tony admits, does look worse than it is. It's not particularly deep, and he makes quick work cleaning and bandaging it. Steve's had worse, actually, has already needed stitches and come home with concussions, but that doesn't make it any easier when he gasps in pain at Tony's touch. 

"I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm almost done, okay? Then we can talk about some ice packs and bed. Deal?"

Steve inhales, a long, shuddering thing, and nods.

"Good," Tony agrees. He runs a finger beneath the dark half-moons that make up the bruise beneath Steve's right eye, feeling Steve relax just a fraction at the touch. 

"If you look like this, I hate to see what the other guy looks like," Tony teases, doing what he can to ease some of the tension from Steve's shoulders. 

Steve manages a small half smile. "Didn't get a good look, but pretty bad, from what Sam said."

"Good," Tony says. He holds out a hand, gingerly taking Steve's hand in his and cleaning the mess of cuts intersecting his palms. 

When he's done, Steve looks ready to collapse, but he's not wincing at every touch anymore, either.

"I might not be able to sleep," Steve says apologetically. "I mean, I'm exhausted, but..." he trails off as Tony leads them back to bed. He rummages around in his own dresser for a minute before handing Steve a pair of pajamas. They're old and worn, but Steve likes them for occasions like this' soft and familiar and home. 

"It's okay, we can just lay down," Tony tells him. He knows the feeling, how sometimes even though you're exhausted, all the way down to your bones, you're still too keyed up to sleep. "You know I never sleep anyway."

"You do," Steve says quietly, slipping in beneath the covers and shivering a little. Tony slides in beside him, doing his best to curl up around Steve as he settles in, wrapping his arms around his middle, careful not to hug too tight and hurt him. 

"I do," Tony agrees when Steve stills. "Only when you're here though, that's the secret." He cards a hand through Steve's hair, pushing it back and away from the bandages and soothing him in the process. "When you're here all in one piece," Tony says, correcting himself. 

Steve makes a quiet humming noise in response, sighing as Tony continues to stroke his hand through Steve's hair. "Hmm, you do a pretty good job putting me back together, though," Steve tells him, opening an eye to peer at him. 

Tony smiles, pressing his face into the space between Steve's shoulder blades and breathing deeply, taking in the familiar scent of Steve, here amid their sheets, back, mostly safe and sound, in their bed. 

"I'm getting too good at it," Tony huffs. "Be more careful, would you? I can't sleep alone, you know."

He can just about hear the small, guilty smile in Steve's soft laugh. "I know. I'll try," Steve assures him. His hand finds Tony's in the dark, and he holds it in his like a promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm omg-just-peachy on tumblr, come say hi!


End file.
